Resident Evil 2: Evil's Definition
by sheshe21
Summary: This is my attempt of a Res Evil 2 fic. What difference is there than all the others? This is a Res character's point of view. Chapters 3 and 4 are up! Yes, this fic still lives, despite my long absence from my fic.
1. Chapter 1: Venting

**Authors Note: **This story is going to be serious and hopefully, a very well liked one. Well, of course I'l have humar, but it will definatly have a more serious tone than my other stories. Don't worry, I'm still working on the others, it's just that I've been so busy that I don't have much time finishing the chapters I already started. Of course you're wandering why I'm writing another story instead of working on the others. Truthfully, this story just wont leave my brain! I've just hooked up my old Sega Dreamcast and started playing Resident Evil 2 constantly. Although it's graphics isn't like today, that game still gets to me. Which is the reason I'm writing this. The story line refuses to leave my imagination. So, I started writing in a notebook and came up with two chapters. The third will be up when I'm done with the other updates on the other two stories.

Wow, this is a long authors note! Hehe! O.K., here's the outline. This is going to be a Res Evil character's point of view, not mine. If you played out both story lines and played both A and B Canon stories, then you will notice that I mixed the two in a nice, bended smoothie! I of course will add dialogue here and there to fill in the silences. You get my drift. As for the first chapter, it will have no action or stuff like that, it'll be the characters emotional ranting over the incident. So, without further ado, I present my version of Resident Evil 2!

**Disclaimer: _CAPCOM and whoever else owns all of the Resident Evil games and the characters within them. I own none. Well, actually I own lots of their games, but not the rights to write about the characters and make any prophit by selling novels about them. If I did, then I would be bragging about that and saying, 'Ha-haaaaaaaaaaaa!' allot... But I don't... (sniffles) _**

**Resident Evil 2: Evils Definition**

**Chapter 1: Venting**

December 31, 1998

Evil: wrong or bad; immoral; wicked: _evil deeds; an evil life _2. harmful; injurious: _evil laws _3. characterized or accompanied by misfortune or suffering; unfortunate; disastrous:_to be fallen on evil days. _4. due to actual or imputed bad conduct or character: _an evil reputation. _

Evil is a word that is taken out of context by everyone at one time or another. If you pick up a dictionary like I did, then you would know that there is different definitions about this word. I found 14 to be exact. These definitions are man's findings on this subject. The human race declares that this is truth, that evil can be simply be written down in a dictionary, to explain the who, what, and why of all that is evil. To simply explain it away and give it a face so that we will no longer fear ir... This is a illusion. I should know, I looked evil in the face... and it scares me.

I know a company that seems to wear evil like a jewel necklace... Umbrella.

Here you got a pharmaceutical company that is stationed all over the world. A business that is run by different C.E.O's that would kill their own mothers to get ahead... I heard rumors about that actually happening actually, but I won't go there. So let's get back to the point I'm trying to make.

Umbrella... This company seemed perfect! Their medication was sold for reasonable prices to all that needed it, and even better, their medicine worked better than most. The FDA absolutely adored them, as well the rest of the world. They gave large sums of money to charities, had great benefits for employees along with great salaries, and their imagination in all that they accomplished was breath taking. Umbrella was at the top of the list when it came to scientific research. So much so, that about eighty percent of all the bright scientific minds all over the globe dreamed of becoming part of their research and development team. The company seemed to have both a compassionate and idealist side that touched not just the rich, but for the poor as well. No matter what class or well and unknown college background you came from, they would give internships to all... Which meant, even the young, poor college graduates were welcomed and given equal oppertunity to become part of the Umbrella family. In the public eye, they were a dream come true. But it was all a front, a mask covering Umbrella's true nature. Umbrella was a lie, a fake.

You're probably wandering why I'm writing down old news. Here's three reasons that should enlighten you.

1. This is just the beginning of my story. The intro to my nightmarish tale.

2. Even though people now know that Umbrella caused the viral outbreak in Raccoon City,there is still people out there who defend this company. Maybe that is why there is still other Umbrella branches all over the world, still functioning and thriving.

3. Therapy. When my parents died, my brother and I had to see this trauma therapist. And one of her ways of helping us was giving both my brother and I a leather bound diary. She gave us the assignment of writing down our feelings and thoughts of our parents tragic death. Of course, at first we balked at the idea. My brother refused for the simple reason of stubbornness. He was handling his grief with rebellion and anger at any authoritative figure at the time. Which if you know my brother, then you know that even on his good days he's a guy with a stubborn streak that is as long as the Mississippi river.

I on the other hand, refused just because Chris did. (Though in no way am I a follower!) It's just that my older brother was my rock, my protector, and my best friend. Still is in many ways, despite the age difference and that he's a jerk ninety percent of the time... Long story short, we both began writing. And it was a great help in our grief. We used to read aloud to each other what we wrote on the subject, bringing us closer in that trying period. After that, both of us has kept a diary on every event and slow day of our lives. In fact, we both have an entire bookshelf dedicated to our many diaries and journals. Now here I am, three months after the incident, writing down my story that still gives me nightmares.

So you see, this is my way of venting. Who knows, maybe this story will save your life. I hope it does. Of course, I hope you don't have to face what every Raccoon City survivor had to face. I pray that whoever is reading this is living a normal life with no monsters to haunt them. If you are leading a normal life, then you will probably chalk this up as a lame, science fiction story. Please don't; don't turn your back on the truth. Evil is real, in all its shapes and forms. And like a bibel verse my granny taught me till it became vital to my very being, 'The truth will set you free.' And while you accept this tale of mine as truth, I hope that you don't have nightmares after reading of the events that happened... And what can continue if Umbrella isn't stopped.

Now, (after that little bit of dramatic warning) to start at the beginning. I guess the best way of telling a horrific tale such as mine, I have to go back to the beginning. It all started with me not receiving a letter or a simple phone call from my older brother for a whole month...

**Authors Note: **Yeah, yeah. I know, it's too short! Well, I'm tired and have to get up in the morning so I'll give ya another chapter. A longer one. But that's it, after that I'm going to bed. I'll update later! NOW REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to the Nightmare

**Authors Note: **Like I promised chapter 2! Please read and enjoy. Although this chapter will seem a tad different than the game, it'll still be based on it! So no flames, just your honest opinion. Don't worry, I can handle the criticism!

**Resident Evil 2: Evil's Definition**

**Chapter 2: Welcome to the Nightmare**

**Characters: Claire Redfield, Janet (I made her up. She'll appear in my other stories!), Leon S. Kennedy, zombies, zombies, and more zombies, and more zombies... Please applause... I SAID APPLAUSE!**

**_Evil:_**5:marked by anger; irritability; irascibility; ect: _He is known for his evil disposition. _6. that which is evil; evil quality, intention or conduct: _to choose the lesser of two evils._

_It all started with me not receiving a letter or a simple phone call from my older brother, for a whole month..._

Most wouldn't freak out over something like that. But my brother and I are not like most bickering siblings.

So, after hearing absolutely nothing for Chris for so long, I decided to go and get to the bottom of my brother's lack of communication. Trust me, my brother at least calls me once a week, to check up on me. Him not even sending a letter was enough to set off a loud alarm in my brain, telling me that something was wrong. Now, I've been described by some to be impulsive. (Chris is worse than me, by the way.) But with my impulsiveness, I do think quick on my feet. So yes, when I came to realization that the only way of getting the information I need meant ditching college, I knew that it the action would cost me. The decision in leaving school was a very hard thing to do. I had a great 4.0 average so far, and (not bragging, just stating a truth)I was ahead of everyone in my classes. So ditching in the middle of exams was not a smart move according to my realistic mind... and neither to my room mate, Janet.

"Claire! You can't honestly be thinking of leaving," Janet said in a irritated voice. Almost as if she couldn't believe that I would do such a thing. And on any other day, she would be right.

I looked at her briefly, giving her my serious look, then continued packing. I could sense her shock as I zipped up my back pack. She just didn't understand how Chris not calling was a signal of him being in trouble. But that's the thing. Nobody knew Chris the way I do. Though we're not twins, at times people have told me that we almost share a similar, sibling link that twins have.

"Claire Elizabeth Redfield! If you leave now, you will fail all your exams, and then probably be considered a drop out. All your hard work, your grades; will be for nothing. And think about your brother Chris! You know he will blow his top when you show up during this time in the school year."

I sighed and turned around. Janet seemed to take this as her cue to go in for the kill.

"I know you're worried about Chris, but don't you think there is a better way of doing this? Talk to the Dean. I'm sure he'll make arrangements for -"

"I did talk to the Dean, Jan," I replied with a heart.

The pain and dread that I felt was nearly suffocating.

Jan closed her mouth, and allowed me to get a word in edge wise.

"And you want to know what he said? He told me that I'm just overreacting, and some crap about how Chris has a high stress job that calls for constant attention. So no, he wasn't willing for me to take a break to go check on Chris."

Jan stayed silent through my little outburst, which is a miracle in itself. I think it finally hit her at that moment, that I was not going to be dissuaded. It's the impulsive, stubborn streak that both Chris and I inherited. (And like I've said before, Chris's streak was worse than mine.) Janet has faced this streak allot, from both Chris and I. In fact, she always claims that it's the Redfield downfall. After all, she did date my brother for a year, so she knows first hand about our stubborness, tempers, and our ability to shut everyone out. That's why they broke up; Chris's inability to open up to her, even though she was his first love. (Oh, by the way, she's 23; so she wasn't too young for him when they dated back in the day.) But anyways, I guess in a way she's right. We Redfields are like mules; very hard headed.

Janet ran her hand through her long brunette hair, trying to figure out how to change my mind. But, to my surprise, she seemed to give in when she looked at me with a tired face. I knew then that I won.

"So, what do I tell the Dean and everyone else?"

I turned and grabbed my backpack, not answering her at first. Goodbyes are really hard for me, stemmed from my memory of the last goodbye I had ever given to my parents. Since then, I've never really said goodbye to anybody... Ever. It's' always been a 'See you later' or a 'Till next time.' But never the 'G' word. Which is why I kept my silence and answer to myself as walked over to the door. After slowly opening the door of our dorm room, I finally turned my head and gave her a smile.

"Tell them that I'm sick with rhinosotic-temporal-dislocation-liengitus," I said cheekily.

Jan laughed at that. It's a little joke between the two of us that we often laugh about. The joke started when Jan came back to the dorm with food poisoning, after going after curfew for a date. So, in the morning I had to be the one to cover for her to the suspicious dorm leader, Mrs. Bowers. My little diagnoses kept her on the phone all morning with doctors, trying to find out if this thing actually existed. Heh, by the time she came and had the evidence to prove that it didn't exist, the nurse had giving Janet an excuse for the day. That nurse is the sweetest, especially since she already knew from looking at Jan that it was food poisoning.

"You know, I'm going to be lonely without my bosom buddy," she said with a sad tone.

I gave her a sad smile and replied, "I promise not to be long. Who knows, maybe you're right. Maybe Chris was too busy with the S.T.A.R.S job, and just hasn't had the time to call."

Jan shook her head and sighed. She hated goodbyes almost as much as I do.

"Bye, baby girl. I'm going to miss yoooou," she said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and walked out the door with my motorcycle helmet, ignoring my personal mother hen.

"Whatever, Janet. I'm sure you'll find another Art major to hassle in to your crazy schemes... Bye."

With that being said, I closed the door. It hit me then that I actually did what I have been unable to do for years... Somehow, I had the feeling that I wouldn't see Jan for a long time, if ever. I chastised myself for being so dramatic, and just chalked it up to my subconscious in healing enough to face my fears over goodbyes and partings. Little did I know, that such forebodings and feelings shouldn't be treated lightly.

It was after curfew when I left my room, so it took me a little bit of time getting out of there. Mrs. Bowers must be part bloodhound, because that woman can smell and hear when one of her charges are trying to make a late night escape. But I obviously did make it out without the old crone detecting my oh so skillful footwork, so as soon as I felt the late night breeze touch my skin, I dashed toward freedom with open abandon. Putting on my helmet and giving my baby a loving caress, I took off on the open rode. The motorcycle hummed with life and power, giving me a sense of freedom and excitement. Riding my baby has that effect on me.

It had been awhile since I had driven my bike, due to school and live on the college campus. Between late night cramming sessions, parties, (I'm a good girl, but even good girls need to have some fun!) and the pressure in keeping your grads up, taking time for joyrides that I enjoyed were rare and a luxury. My baby purred like a kitten while we left the city, telling me that he missed this as much as I did. And because of the long absence of each others company, I drove all night with a smile on my face. We didn't stop till my eyelids drooped every three seconds. (What? I'm not the only human on the planet who doesn't see their Harley as a nearly living being.)

My journey was uneventful. When I think back now, I realise how peaceful those three days were. No fighting to stay alive, soft beds at hotels that held no danger of undead zombies or test tube freaks coming to eat you in your sleep; safety was not a issue. Now, I'm lucky to get a full night's sleep! Well, I won't go into detail on those three days, so let's skip to me entering Raccoon City. After all, this is an account of horror and conspiracies, not my ever loving dedication to motorcycles and peaceful, lazy days.

I should have noticed the area seemed deserted and creepy. It could have saved me from a few traumas. But I didn't, unfortunately. Instead, I parked my bike in front of a dinar, relieved that the trip was over. My butt was numb from all the riding I did, and my back seemed stiff. All that was on my mind was to get some food in my growling gut, and to get good nights sleep before starting my search in Chris's unusual silence.

As I took off my grey helmet, I let out a grateful sigh. "Huh. I'm finally here."

The night air felt good, refreshing me enough to get off my bike. All my muscles were a bit achy, and they seemed to protest. But after stretching, they seemed to relax a bit. I was tired, sore, and in desperate need of some caffeine. So, I walked over to the dinar and opened the glass door. God, I was actually excited to be finally here, in Raccoon City! I've been there a couple of times when visiting on the holidays, so I didn't really know the town that well. But I sure knew this dinar! The feeling of relief and enthusiasm began to drain when I took a look around. The place was quiet, too quiet. There was not a living soul around. I wandered if I stepped in at closing, but the sign on the door said open.

It was all very strange. But the thing that really got me, was that the place seemed deserted. Deserted as in full coffee cups left with half eaten plates of old food, laying around. A stool laying on the ground, burnt coffee smell in the stale air. It was as if eveeryone stopped what they were doing, and just simply left... Of fled.

I gathered my courage and proceeded into the room, looking around.

"Hello," I said with uncertainly. Those natural instincts we humans have suddenly kicked in. I felt a presence near by.

Goosebumps covered my exposed legs and arms as I asked, "Is anyone around?"

The only reply I got was a squishy, liquid-y sound coming from around the counter. The sound itself was disgusting! It sounded as if someone was gorging on mushy meat, while chewing with their mouths open. And despite of my abhorrence to the whole 'Chewing with your mouth open' thing, I went and investigated. As I got close to the sound, my heartbeat picked up the pace. Though I didn't know why at the time, this mortal terror flooded my entire being. I barely remembered my knife as I slowly made my way over to sounds coming from around that red counter. It sucks that I just had to sate my morbid curiosity when all the while my gut screamed at me to run. But my mind told the gut to shut the hell up, and find out what's there! So, I listened to my stupid brain, and came across what was making that sound.

A man was kneeling down beside a person. Both seemed to have blood all over their clothes. My heart seemed to have physically leaped to my throat.

"Uh, hello?" I asked with a uncertain voice.

The bald man slowly turned and gave me a gruesome view of himself and his snack. I gasped at the sight, and stumbled back. Breathing became a issue due to the shock of what I was currently witnessing. The man's face was covered with dried, old congealed blood. His lips were dried and curled to reveal rotting teeth, which were dripping with fresh blood and drool. Those eyes were a foggy white, one of many signs of death. And that smell! God, that smell was something I will never forget. The stench of rotting flesh waved over my senses, causing me to almost puke then and there. And through all of these overwhelming sense and observations, I noticed the state of his clothes. They were torn to shreds, hanging off of his discolored and rotting figure. I couldn't even tell what color his shirt was due to how much blood was soaked into the material.

As he stood up and began stiffly walking towared me, I began to try to reason with this zombie. Yes, you read correctly, a zombie. But you see, like any logical person who knows that zombies and ghouls are (supposedly) not real, I denied the evidence that was starting to pursue me.

"Look, I'm sorry I bothered you. O.k.? Just don't come any closer... Are you listening?"

But the dead man kept walking forward, his mouth open in hungry anticipation. At the time, my mind was so horrified, that it just didn't register that this was the living dead. A dead man walking. Heh. That was so cliche!

The zombie groaned as it took a fast step forward, trying to grab me. I quickly stumbled backwards, my back hitting the glass front door. I turned to leave through the door I had entered by, but the sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. Two, bloody, zombies with their chewed up faces were there, pressing their rotting corpses against the glass and leaving a bloody smear. I knew there was no escaping through there.

By then, I was starting to panic. It was all just too much. My baby was parked right up front, and though zombies are generally slow (most of the time), getting to my bike through the front door was too much of a risk. The number of zombies outside were increasing with every second. So I turned and looked at my bald friend, then back to the two still plastered to the window outside. My brain was trying to comprehend on how to escape. Then I saw the side door used for emergency exits that led to the alley. Nothing looked so good or beautiful at that moment. Adrenaline finally in full throttle, I ran as fast as I could over to the door. The green, florescent letters shined like a lighthouse to a lost ship at sea. As I ran, it felt like time slowed down. What took five seconds to get to the door, really felt like five years.

When I got to the metal door, I pushed it open with all my strength, and prepared to run for my life. But a gun to my face stopped me. The man holding the gun hesitated, (Thank God!) but still held the gun up.

"Wait! Don't shoot!"

"Get down," he ordered.

I basically hit the deck and covered my ears. The man shot once, nailing the bald zombie right between the eyes. I looked at the twitching corpse, realising just how close I came to becoming this crazies next meal. Being so close to death like that was not as invigorating as the movies make it out to be. A fingerless, black, gloved hand reached down, offering help.

I looked up in a bit of a daze as the ash, blond haired man said, "We can't stay out here. It's too dangerous. We'll head to the police station, it's allot more safer there."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I grabbed his strong, large hand and held on as he led me out of the dirty alley. As we ran, I saw countless zombies in the street. Their moans filling the air, seemingly declaring that dinner was served. I remember briefly wondering how I _didn't _notice all of the dead populace before. My hero stopped and quickly looked around, letting go of my hand. His keen eyes spotted a black and white police car, parked near by.

"There," he said excitedly. We ran over to the squad car and got in.

Both of us were trembling and breathing heavily. I looked over to the man, wandering if he was going to hot-wire the damn thing already. But instead, he smiled. It turned out the keys were in the ignition already. Something I admit is strange since this was a police car and all. But hey, the handsome stranger didn't hear me complaining about absent minded cops.

He started the car (finally!), the engine roaring to life. And I swear, as he put on his seat belt, my hero looked at me and simply ordered cheerfully, "Buckle up."

I smiled, and respond with a upbeat 'Okay!' Although in all honesty, he did say that line rather cheezily. Then we took off without delay, passing all the dead people. Yippee!

I looked out of the passenger window, wandering if this is it. Life as we know it, gone. Staring at the crazy people, who are not people anymore, really opened my eyes. They're zombies, monsters that are not supposed to be real. I saw it, but I didn't want to believe it. For accepting it would be admitting that maybe, nightmares are real.

As the mystery man fiddled with the radio, I decided to voice my frustration. "What's going on? I arrive in town, and the whole place goes insane!"

"Great! The radio's out," he said with stress lacing his voice.

I figured he wasn't going to answer my impossible question. He's just as shocked and frustrated as I am, and in the same boat of trying to cope with the cold, slimy, rotting facts. It was then that I noticed the blue uniform, a R.P.D. uniform.

"You're a cop, right?" I ask with hope., though it did kinda came out a little patronising and accusing. But at that moment, I really didn't care what he thought. All that this brain could think of was that maybe, he knew where Chris was!

The cop's baby, blue eyes flickered in my direction briefly, then he turned his attention back on the road.

"Yeah, first day on the job," he looks my way again and finishes. "Great huh. The name's Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you."

I almost smile at his boy scout manners, but I didn't since this was a serious and depressing situation.

"Mines Claire. Claire Redfield. I came to find my brother Chris," I said more calmly than I actually felt.

He nods his head, trying to not look grave and... well, pitying towards me. I knew what he was thinking. If Chris was still here, chances were that he was one of those zombies now. But he didn't know my brother. So, I continued to prove my silent point.

"He's part of the S.T.A.R.S team. You've probably been given the whole story on S.T.A.R.S. team. So, my brother is definitely alive."

Surprisingly, he doesn't deny me my belief in the capabilities of my brother like most people in our situation would. Then again, as I learn later, Leon Scott Kennedy isn't most people. He's a truly, honorable, loyal, understanding, good man.

"When's the last time you talked to him," he asked with curiosity.

I smile sadly and reply, "One month ago."

Silence. Good. I didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Leon then at that moment takes a sharp turn to the right, almost causing me to lose my lunch. I was so glad I listened and put on my seat-belt, because there is one thing that Leon does that scares the hell out of me to this day. Leon's driving skills.

As we drove along, Leon asks out of the blue, "Hey, can you open the glove box?"

"Sure," I said with a light air. I then opened the glove box and spot a handgun. So, I state the obvious, "There's a gun inside."

"Better take it with you. You may need it."

Just between you and me, I was already going to take it anyways. Hordes of zombies everywhere and the only thing in my arsenal was a knife... Yeah, a gun was way beyond welcome!

I picked up the gun, holding it and checking out the weight. Leon seems a bit surprised, like he expected me to be scared of it. I almost smiled again, grateful that Chris taught me everything there is to know about guns. Yup, I know my way around the weapon department pretty well, if I'm allowed to say so myself. As I holster the weapon in my red, jean, shorts waist band, a zombie suddenly pokes his head out from the backseat. I screamed like the girl I am as Leon curses a blue streak. Even boy-scouts have potty mouths.

The zombie moans as it tried to take a bite out of Leon's neck. His rancid breath filled up in the car, making me gag. As Leon starts to lose control and bumps against the buildings, I notice a thick metal pole coming up too quickly. The sign read "Raccoon City Police Department" with a white arrow under the bold lettering. I cry out as Leon elbows the fiend as I barely manage to warn him that we're about to crash. Leon stomps on the breaks, but we were going too fast to stop.

"Hold on," he yells.

I scream again as I braced for the crash. Suddenly, everything becomes a mixture of blurred colors, breaking glass, and screeching, nearly maddening sounds as we hit the pole; totalling our ride to freedom. And yet again, Leon's foresight of seatbelts saved not only my life, but his as it stopped us from going through the window... But not the zombie. His rotting corpse breaks through the window and hits the pole head on, delivering a killing blow.

I open my eyes and see Leon's arm in front of me, like my mom used to do when we had a few close calls with unsafe drivers. He removes his arm and looks at me. His eyes shined with concern as he asks,"You O.k.?"

"Still in one piece," I assure him.

Leon looked relieved... until he looked at the rear view mirror.

I look back to see what was the problem as Leon exclaims, "That maniac is going to ram us!"

The large green semi truck looked completely out of control, scraping across the walls of the shops lined along the street.

Leon suddenly pulled me from my daze with a shout.

"Run!"

We quickly unbuckled our seat-belts and jumped out of the car. The truck at that moment crashes into the squad car. The sound of metal impacting against metal was deafening. I tried to get as far as I could, but the truck was faster and tipped over. Then it exploded, knocking me off my feet. I soon fell hard upon the ground.

I feel over whelmed as my senses are buzzing from the crash. Shivering uncontrollably, I got up slowly, shaking off the glass. I suddenly wished I didn't wear my short, short, shorts with those warm but still short, black, tactical shorts. And of course my red vest with only the black, tactical shirt. I've always been fashion conscious concerning my biker attire. The burning pain in my knees told me long before I looked down that I scraped up my exposed limbs pretty badly. My superficila wounds were bleeding allot, but not enough to kill me or anything. My right elbow had a long scratch, but it wasn't so bad to call attention too. No, it was the side of my head that concerned me. I tentatively touch the side of my forhead and wince with pain. I found a nasty gash there, courtesy of that maniac! Blood dripped down my face like in little river-lets that soon coated my face, probably giving me the look of one of those zombies.

My eyes widen as I realize that I clearly forgotten Leon. Was he o.k? Was he dying? Leon's strong voice calling my name eases my fears somewhat. I cry out with all my emotions in my voice.

"Leon!"

"I'm o.k. Head for the station. I'll meet you there," he said with a trace of doubt. I knew the feeling.

I step back as the heat of the fire from the crash sight, the heat too much for my skin to handle.

I respond quickly, "O.k.! Be careful, Leon!"

"You too, Claire!"

With that said, I turned around. I take out the gun that thankfully had a full clip of ammo, and take a deep breath. I tried to be brave, and courageous like my brother would be. But as I stood there and listened to the approaching zombies, I felt like fate dealt me and Leon a crappy hand. But, I tried to shove that feeling away. But the ugly truth of how I felt was this... I was utterly alone facing this nightmare. And I couldn't help but wander if I would survive.

**Authors Note: **You know what? I enjoyed writing that chapter. Of course in future chapters there will be humor, I just can't have angst all the time! So, what did ya'll think? While you people read and review, I'll be working on finishing the next chapters for the other stories. Then I'll do another one for this one! Now review before I send Annet Birkin after you!


	3. Chapter 3: Leon's Side

**A/N: **_I blew the dust off of this fic and gave it a bit of T-virus which resulted into me saying, "IT'S ALIVE!" Thanks to Heero Strife, the fic is now going to be worked on. I can't believe I let it go this long! Well, not any more! Now on with the show..er... story._

**Resident Evil 2: Evil's Definition**

**Chapter 3: Leon's side**

**Evil: 6. **_That which is evil; evil quality, intention, or conduct._

**December 31, 1998**

The bar was noisy and crowded with people from the ages of twenty-one, to sixty. College students, newly weds, an old couple celebrating their golden anniversary, singles; everyone was there it seemed. Waiting for the new year to begin. The mood in the air was ecstatic. Only one guy apart from the crowd, stood out. The mood killer, if you want to name him.

But the name he went by was Leon S. Kennedy, former rookie, Raccoon City cop. Like any survivor of that little city, he had lost his job do to the incident. After the viral outbreak wrecked havoc on the booming town, many lives were changed forever. His story was only a sliver of many others that happened in that little city. And tonight, he wasn't bothering to think about his living nightmare. With the help of alcohol, of course.

Looking down at his untouched bear, Leon brooded about the future of this country. Every day, the news reported on the hole in the ground that was once a happy, thriving city. At first, it was covered up as a nuclear accident. But as more survivors were found, the more the fictional story was scrutinized. When the truth could not be covered up no longer, the President of the United States revealed the horror that had been unleashed.

A plan was set up, one with a horrible cost. To the public horror, the President ordered that Raccoon City be destroyed to stop further spread of the T-Virus. Personally, Leon had no problem with that.

What Leon did have a problem with was how everybody still acted as if this would not have consequences. As if the low number of people who survived the incident didn't have homes any longer. They'd have to start all over on their lives. People like Claire and little Sherry.

Leon rubbed his face, feeling emotionally drained. He began to wander if Claire was right when she told him to find a outlet to release his feelings. She found hers with writing, and Cherry found hers by talking to Claire's kind grandmother. Maybe he just needed to find a psychiatrist or take up a hobby that would take his mind off from the horrible memories Umbrella left in their wake. On the other hand, maybe he already found that in the training he would be doing for a secret organization the President started.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Leon sighed as he looked up. A tall man stood before him, looking just as grim as he was feeling. In a way, it was comforting to know that he wasn't the only one feeling non-chipper during this holiday season. The dark haired stranger waited patiently for his answer.

"Sure, if you like. Though I have to warn you, I'm not in the mood for chatting."

The tall man shrugged before sitting down with his beer in hand. "That makes two of us. I didn't feel like sitting with the merry folk. Saw you sitting over here with that cloud hanging over your head and thought, what the hell."

The two sat there saying nothing else for a good long while. Leon just studied his untouched beer while the stranger beside him sipped his with ease. It would've stayed that way if the guy beside him hadn't decided to ask him a question.

"You going to drink that, or nurse it to death?"

Leon looked at the man, studying him for the first time. He had dark brown hair that was gelled but messy from hands running through the spikes time and time again, dark, brown eyes that had bags underneath from hardly any sleep, a five o'clock shadow growing on his handsome face, broad shoulders and seemingly (despite of his somewhat haggard appearance) in good shape. His blue jeans and grey shirt was well worn, though not ragged, showing that he was a working man.

Leon would have chalked him up as a average Joe in his late twenties, only the man's dark eyes held a spark of intelligence... And something to hide. The rookie stiffened slightly, causing the man to smile at this, his pearly white teeth sparkling.

"Don't know. Haven't decided if I'm going back to where I'm staying at, or not."

The man nodded. "Woman trouble?"

"No... Not exactly. I just don't want to disrespect my friend who let me stay with her and her grandmother by coming back drunk."

"Ah. I see the dilemma. Though your conscious says take the high moral ground, your brain wants to drown those nightmarish memories away. I can relate."

Leon narrowed his light, blue eyes. "Do I know you?"

The stranger chuckled. "Nope. And I don't know you. But I can see that you're a survivor of Raccoon City. All of us survivors have one thing in common. The stain that shows the horror in our eyes," the man said bitterly before taking another sip from his beer.

"So you're-"

"Yeah."

Leon studied the man's face a moment. The guy was suspicious, he didn't need his cop training to tell him that. But he could see what the guy was telling the truth. He saw the same look on this man's face that he sees ever day on Claire and everyone elses. Everyone had that look that survived the incident.

"What's your name, friend?"

"It's Leon Scott Kennedy. And I am not your friend."

The stranger chuckled darkly. "I didn't mean anything by it, Leon Scott Kennedy."

Leon nodded. "Sorry. I'm just..."

"Trying to get through another night," the man finished for him.

"Something like that," Leon replied as he went back to studying his beer.

"Leon Scott Kennedy... Hmmm... I've heard that name before, I think... Did you work at the Raccoon City Police Department?"

Leon again stiffened, then forced himself to relax. "Yes and no."

"Yes and no? You either did or you didn't. Which is it?"

"Damn it! I thought you said you weren't up for talking?"

The man held up both hands. He began to get up as he spoke, "I'm not. I just thought your name sounded familiar. I knew the cops there. They were some of the best people I knew."

Leon motioned the dark stranger to sit back down. "Wait, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. But I did warn you that I wasn't the most chipper company you would want to sit down with."

The man took his seat again, putting his beer on the table beside Leon's. "Don't think nothing of it... Guess I hit a nerve."

Leon nodded. "Yeah, you did."

"Did... Did any-"

"Survive?... No, I'm sorry," Leon finished this time. He watched as the man's face fell. He looked away as the stranger wiped some tears.

"Damn it! I told them to..." the stranger stopped himself from finishing. Leon didn't ask him to finish, despite of the curious slip the stranger made.

"Damn Umbrella," the stranger said between clenched teeth.

"Now that I will drink to," Leon said as he held up his beer. Both clinked the drinks together before guzzling down the two alcohol beverages.

"Whoo! It's been awhile," Leon commented with a chuckle when he set his now empty beer down. The man clapped him on the back, smiling. His eyes still held a deep sadness.

"I guess you decided."

Leon smiled grimly, "Guess I did. Claire's going to kill me for not coming back tonight."

Leon's companion froze. "What did you say?"

"I said that-"

"Claire? Claire Redfield," the man demanded as he clenched a fistful of Leon's brown, leather jacket. The suspicion that had began to die earlier came back.

When Leon refused to answer, the angry man quickly shifted moods. He slowly released the lapels of Leon's jacket, raising his hand to get the waitresses attention.

"Who are you?" Leon demanded.

"Like you, I'm just another survivor, Leon. If you're smart, you'll tell me everything you know," the man spoke in low tones. Leon didn't miss the hidden threat in his words.

"I don't think so. You better leave before I make you," Leon threatened back.

The stranger looked at Leon with scrutiny. The rookie held his gaze, showing the man he meant business. The stranger seemed to have found something he liked, and nodded once and spoke; though more to himself apparently. "Protective and loyal. Good. He seems trustworthy."

Leaning forward, the stranger began to speak. "If I told you my name here, yours and anyone else you're associated with will be in danger. So for now, just call me John. John Doe. You get my drift?"

Leon nodded once, still not trusting the man. John smirked.

"Good. Now, I want to know your story. Every, single detail of your tale of woe. Starting with how you know Claire."

Leon didn't like the position he was being put in. He could never put Claire or Cherry in harm's way. He would die before that could happen. Yet, something about this man showed that he knew Claire - well, knew _of_her. If he refused to talk, then he could either be doing one of two things. Saving Sherry's and Claire's life, or separating the nineteen year old and the young girl possibly someone who could truly keep them safe and secure.

"Well?"

"Fine. But you're going to have to order us some more beers. This is going to be a long story, and I don't want to be sober when I'm done telling it. Oh, and you're buying."

"No problem, Leon," John agreed as he lifted a hand again to catch the waitresses attention...

**R**

**Leon's Pov...**

I guess I should start at the beginning... I just graduated from the academy, my first step in my dream of becoming a cop. To top it off, the station where I would be assigned was at the same place where an old buddy of mine worked. Raccoon City. Like most, I was excited and more than naive of my career choice. After all, being a cop meant that danger and death is part of your daily life. Who would be completely stoked over a high maintenance and serious job like that?... So, I packed my bags, got in my Jeep and left right after my graduation. All bright eyed and bushy tailed.

I drove like a mad man, eager to start. Always on the road the majority of both day and night, only stopping when I needed to sleep. On the third day, I took it easy, knowing that I was close. I stopped at a road side hotel, showered, slept and ate before setting out on the last leg of my journey. With my new RCPD uniform on, I drove toward the setting sun with the dreams I've had sense childhood at last coming true. Police Officer Leon Scott Kennedy... Has a nice ring to it, ya know... And I know this will make me sound like some over dramatic, cliched movie; but this night would be the longest night of my life.

I reached the City limits when the stars were finally out, shining brightly. The cold air felt refreshing, showing the change in season that was coming. I remember thinking of buying some chains for my tires before the first snow. Funny how some insignificant details you remember so clearly, while other major details just fade away...

When entering the city, I didn't at first notice the strange silence. Sure, Raccoon City was not a large city like New York or Chicago. In fact, it was more like a large town. But you would think that at least there would be some noise that showed that human life lived there.

I looked down at the map in my lap, looking for the police department. Even though I memorized the directions, I wanted to make sure I was on the right track. In doing this, I almost didn't notice the crows in the road. I stopped about eight feet away. Briefly remembering my friend mentioning about the local deer that sometimes wandered into town, I stepped out of the car, leaving the engine running.

As I approached the gathering flock, the birds quickly fluttered away. And that's when I realized that this was no rotting carcass of a deer, but of a boy. I shivered, the cold crisp air having nothing to do with the sudden chill that swept my body.

God, I'll never forget that first scene of carnage! As I bent down beside the body, I saw the damage done to that kid's body. His shirt was ripped, covered in his congealing blood. The flesh was torn, and by the looks of it, huge chunks were gone, revealing his spinal chord. His flesh looked as if someone had chewed it. From the faint smell and decomposing of the body, I figured that his time of death was possibly one to three hours ago.

The age of the boy was about ten or eleven. Too young to suffer that kind of death... Old enough to spend some time away from the parents, but too young to be wandering the streets alone at night.

I stood up, pondering on the bite marks. It couldn't have been a bear, though I wasn't a expert on the local wildlife. But the marks were too small to be anything as big as a bear. Maybe a dog? No, I quickly crossed that off my list. Unless maybe it was rabid, maybe. That thought did cross my mind. In the world that I knew then, it would have to be a rabid one to do that much… Chewing... and ripping.

Before I could turn back and head for my Jeep, a sound of shuffling feet caught my attention. I turned around, almost gagging from the potent smell that filled the air. That's when I spotted a large burly man. I couldn't see his face clearly, due to the darkness.

"Stop, this is a crime scene. I'm going to have to ask you to stay where you are…. Hey! I said stay put," I told the man with increasing frustration.

My only response was a moan. The man stumbled toward me, joined by another unknown man and woman. The street light revealed their ghastly faces as they stepped into the light. I winced. It looked like the big burly guy had his face put in a blender. Torn flesh hung from his right cheek, while dried blood covered his mouth. And of course the only thing running through my mind is that maybe, this poor guy met up with the culprit who mauled the boy.

The man and his friends were reaching toward me, groaning. I stepped back, bringing out my gun. The milkiness of their eyes was just not normal! It was nothing like I ever seen before. I felt fear coil in my belly. My instincts said run, while my training said to confront them head on. And like the good cop they train you to be back at the academy, I stayed.

"Freeze! I'm warning you three. Freeze, damn it," I ordered. "or I'll shoot!"

The smell was much stronger than before. I gagged, realizing that the smell was coming from them! That's when I noticed the blood on their clothes and hands. These people must have been the maniacs who killed the kid, I concluded. And since I did give them the proper warning... I took the shot.

The first bullet hit the man in his left upper arm. From what my training showed me, that should have incapacitated the big guy while keeping him alive. But the man didn't even flinch. I fired two more rounds, this time lethal shots to the chest area. Nothing. I fired at the woman, nailing her in the knee. She stumbled, falling down. But she slowly and stiffly got back up.

Suddenly, a hard cold grip grabbed my boot. I stumbled back, realizing it was the dead boy! I cursed as I tried to shake him off. But the thing wouldn't let go. It kept trying to gnaw on my boot like a dog! I pointed my gun down and without even thinking, pulled the trigger...

Skull fragments and brain matter splattered the pavement and my boot. His small body twitching, though this time he was dead for sure. Amazing how I feel guilt over killing that ghoul. Sure, he wasn't a little boy anymore, but... that image of his... its brains splattering everywhere is something I can't forget any time soon. Anyways... I heard more moans, this time coming from all around me. Children, the elderly, young adults, it didn't matter. All of those dead things came out, walking stiffly, blue in the face. Some had no hands, arms, or even noses. But they had all one thing in common, those dead milky eyes! Soulless eyes...

I didn't stick around. I tried to get back to my Jeep, but the damn ghouls had surrounded it. I could have shot them, but I only had one magazine with me. It would be wiser to use the gun when I absolutely needed it. So, I turned around and ran. There was a alley way that seemed safe for the moment, so I took it.

My senses were on high alert as my mind tried to wrap around what just happened. Those bullets should have killed them, but it didn't. Only a bullet to the brain did the trick. I would be lying if I said that word zombie never crossed my mind. But like any normal person, I did not want to believe that. Even if it did seem like the obvious truth.

As I tried to escape from my slow pursuers, a emergency door flew opened, halting my progress. I stopped, automatically lifting my gun at the first person in sight. A young beauty stared at me with wide , dark blue, clear eyes. I hesitated when seeing the intelligence in her eyes... Okay, her blue eyes that in no way resemble that milky status, was also a big tip on the dead/undead issue.

Then, my focus shifted to what was coming up behind her.

"Wait! Don't shoot," she cried while holding both hands up. I quickly ordered her to get down. The girl was quick, I have to give her that. The second she dropped, I fired.

I nailed that zombie with a perfect brain shot. His milky eyes rolling back as he fell to the ground. I looked down at the girl, offering her my hand.

"We can't stay out here. It's too dangerous. We'll head for the Police station, it's a lot more safer there," I said with a self assured voice. In truth, I wasn't sure of anything anymore. My world was tipped upside down when coming to this zombie infested town!

The girl grabbed my hand without arguing, putting her trust in me. Thus started a partnership in this crazy nightmare.

We ran till we reached the other side of the alley. My frustration nearly got the best of me when seeing yet more zombies. I quickly scanned the trashed area for something that could help us. Excitement and relief flooded every pore of my being when spotting the parked police car. I pointed it out to my new partner and quickly ran toward the car. I prayed that it was unlocked. As luck would have it, it was.

We quickly got in. The keys were already in the ignition, lady luck smiling upon us again. I started the car, telling her to buckle up. It was habit for me to say that. I could tell she found it amusing, though she did buckle up as asked.

I threw the car into gear and stomped on the gas peddle. Ignoring the speed limit since hey, the world is all screwed up, I drove away from that street like a bat out of hell. I didn't breath easy till I turned into a different street with less zombies.

Breathing became a little easier now that we were moving at neck breaking speed. Though my nerves were still as raw as a angry wound, I had sense enough to try to get a signal with the radio. Nothing, just static. It seemed that luck would only go so far. That and, possibly, maybe everybody was dead. That wasn't a very encouraging thought... The girl's voice brought me somewhat to the present. She asked what was going on. I was just as clueless as she was.

Apparently, she just got into town like I did. Which meant that she didn't know her way around the place. Not good, for the both of us. The only thing we had was my memorized directions of where the Police station was.

For the first time, she noticed my uniform, commenting on it with this strange tone. I smiled, trying to put her at ease. I'm no fool, some people just don't like cops or feel comfortable around them. And since it was apparent that whatever was going on, the police wasn't able to contain or stop the problem on the streets, the tone was expected. I told her it was my first day on the job, and my name. She then told me her name. Claire Redfield... Claire proceeded to tell me the reason for her coming to Raccoon City. She was looking for her brother. Apparently, he was a cop. She gotten worried when she couldn't get in contact with him for a unusual amount of time. Claire must of read the grim look on my face, for she quickly told me how her brother was on the new STARS team. The thing was, the likelihood of her brother surviving this was not good. Especially since he was a STARS member. They're group was a special team and fairly new, though I heard they were competition for their older brother team, BRAVO.

For her sake, I wanted to believe that this brother of hers was still alive. So, I questioned her on exactly when was the last time she had contact with him, hoping that maybe I could pick up on something she might have overlooked. She told me grimly that it was a month since she last talked to him. I didn't say anymore. Maybe her brother was alive. From the looks of things, this place was filled with zombies, but it was also for the most part, deserted. So maybe he got out before whatever happened to that town.

From brooding on this subject, I almost missed my turn. Good thing I was the top of my class on the drivers-ed part in the academy. Though now come to think about it, I really wish that I missed that turn instead.

Knowing that all the rules have been thrown out the window, I came to a decision on something critical. Protection. With hell taking over, I knew that Claire needed something to face these things... In case the police station turns out to be overrun, which at the time I scoffed at. Not after hearing how tight the security was. Keeping my eyes on the road, I told Claire to look in the glove box. As I hoped, there was a 9 mm gun.

"There's a gun inside," she told me with a satisfied look.

"Better take it with you. You may need it," I said with dread. Hopefully, she wouldn't need it. It was my job to protect and serve. But if we did get separated, I wanted her to have some protection. I caught out of the corner of my eye that she handled guns before. That was good. I shudder to think about the survivors who had to handle a gun without knowing how to use it.

I smiled, seeing the satisfied look in her eyes. I have to admit, Claire was one hell of a looker. I guess shouldn't use the term girl when referring to Claire. She's nineteen after all… What? Oh, guess I got off course.

I knew I could trust her with a gun. From the look of her clothes, she liked motorcycles. If you ask me, any chick who could handle a Harley can certainly handle a hand gun. Let's just say I know from personal experience, and leave it at that.

Well, we didn't escape the city or reach the police station by car. Not yet anyways. You've probably already guessed that. When Claire and I got in the car, we failed to check out the back seat. As my luck would have it, there was a zombie there.

It popped its rotting head out between us, wheezing and moaning. I cursed as I swerved, almost losing control of the car. As I side swiped some buildings, the monster tried to take a chunk out of my neck. I keep one hand on the wheel while trying to keep it's rotting teeth away from me. Using fist, I kept hitting the damn thing while trying to keep us from wrapping ourselves around a light pole. Claire tried to help, but my crazy driving was making it hard for her to be of much use.

When I finally elbowed the fiend enough to get some room between me and his chompers, Claire gave a ear piercing scream. She pointed at the up coming sign ahead. Reacting, I stomped on the breaks, but it was too late. Knowing that this crash was inevitable, I quickly put my arm in front of Claire, hoping that she at least would survive this.

Amazingly, the crash saved my neck. Literally. We smashed into the thick metal pole, ruining the car, but it was well worth it at the time. The zombie who was the only one without a seat belt flew through the window, his head smacking into the bent pole. His body slid down the front of the smashed hood, moving no more.

I opened my eyes, realizing that I survived. I quickly checked Claire. She was fine, well, as fine as a person can feel after a car crash. I asked her if she ws o.k. With that unbreakable spirit of hers, she smiled faintly.

"Still in one piece," she confirmed. I smiled back, feeling relieved. That soon changed when we heard the sound of a semi's horn.

I looked in the cracked, rear view mirror. I saw the bright lights of a green semi, totally out of control and heading straight toward us. I shouted to Claire that the guy was going to ram us at any second. Both of us narrowly got out of the car and leaped as the semi collided with the cruiser.

The semi must have been carrying a load of oil or gas, for the next thing I felt was the heat and force of the explosion. I was sent several feet into the air before landing on the road.

My vision blurred as I landed wrong on my left shoulder. I couldn't help the cry of pain as the rocks from the assault scratched up my face, though that had nothing on what happened to my shoulder.

I couldn't move at first. My whole body was in pain and trying to go into shock, though the unnatural pain in my left shoulder was what my boggled mind could concentrate on. Pain was good. It meant I was alive. Forcing myself to stand up, I looked at the wreckage, favoring my shoulder. Fire lit up the place like daylight, exposing anything near to the human eye. I tried to raise my left arm, but a sharp pain shot down from my shoulder, all the way to my fingertips. Looking with dread, I realized that I dislocated my shoulder.

Perfect... And in case you didn't catch it, please note my sarcasm.

Other than that painful injury, the rest of me would survive. My suit protected me from anything serious. Well, other than my shoulder.

My gut clenched as I remembered Claire. She had nothing to protect her. Just some shorts, and a short sleeved tactical shirt with a red jean vest.

"Claire! Claire, where are you," I called out in a panicked voiced. She wasn't with me, which didn't bode well.

To my intense relief, she called out my name. I got as close to the blazing inferno as my body allowed, trying to see her on the other side of the wreckage. But I could only see the dancing hot flames blocking any chance of seeing or joining her. At least her voice led me to believe she was alive, and apparently not as badly injured as I thought she would be.

"I'm O.K. Head for the station. I'll meet you there," I called out, knowing how my voice didn't hold the confidence it did a minute ago. But Claire, she's a true trooper. She agreed and told me to be careful.

"You too, Claire," I said with every fiber of my being. Both of us knew that we were in a worst case scenario. With no help, and inside a zombie infested city, we would have to fight our way to the station with only a handgun. I at least had a clip of bullets. Claire only had that gun.

I turned around, looking out what laid out before me. A road littered with trash, wrecked cars, and of course zombies. Gritting my teeth, I walked over to the brick building, and smashed my shoulder into it. The first attempt to relocate my shoulder was painful and unsuccessful. The second one was even more painful, but it worked. I let the tears flow, not bothering to wipe them away.

"O.K., time to get moving," I said to myself. Taking out my gun, I took a deep breath, and ran toward the eight zombies blocking my way.

* * *

**A/N:** And there you have it. Leon's beginning. Next chapter is Leon's again, but the two after that will be Claire's!


	4. Chapter 4: Survival Mode

**A/N: **_Yo-ho! Yo-ho! A pirates life for me... Oops! Wrong tune. Better get that off the brain! Okay, here we shall have the gore, and it will be all in poor Leon's perspective. Poor guy._

**Resident Evil 2: Evil's Definition**

**Chapter 4: Survival Mode**

**Evil: **_7. the force in nature that governs and gives rise to wickedness and sin._

Two zombies reach out, groping for me with more strength than I thought they would. I automatically slammed the butt of my hand gun against the cheek of the tallest one, causing some congealed blood to splatter from the wound I caused. His cheek now barely hung on by a few strands of flesh in a putrid fashion. The zombie staggered back, knocking a few others down.

The other dead weight was quicker, grabbing me by the throat. I instinctively grabbed his jaw, stopping him from biting me. I gasped as his cold, sticky hold tightened. You'd think a dead man would be easier to deal with, but they're not. Stumbling around with him, I pointed my gun towards his forehead and fired. A section of his head popped, casting gore all over the advancing zombies. I didn't stop to catch my breath.

I ran to the left, dodging the zombies as I stuck close to the walls of the closed shops. I would have forced my way in any one of those buildings, but all of them had been closed with the security bars covering any entrance. So you see, I had no choice but to run through the group of the walking dead.

Zig zagging among a few of the dead folk, I was now almost free to breath. Only two now blocked my way around the bend of the street. They were easy to fool, both so stiff and rotting that they could barely move. I admit that I had actually started to feel a tiny sliver of hope at this point.

Then I saw that the street was blocked. Debris and a large van blocked my progress. The sign of the gun shop that was next to it caught my attention. No bars covered the door or the large glass window, despite that this was a place that sold dangerous items. True irony... or stupidity on the owners part. But at least this was a shop with guns that in my situation, would be greatly appreciated. My practical side considered the dead townies lurking about, which meant that the chance of any weapons left by any survivors were slim.

I quickly walked up to the Kendo shop and twisted the handle. It was unlocked to my relief. Without another moment to lose, I ran in hoping that the shop was zombie free as I shut the door as quietly as possible. Of course it turned out it wasn't any more safer in there, then out there. A sweaty man stood there, pointing a shotgun at my chest. I automatically held my hands up in a surrendering pose. The poor guy looked like he would snap any second.

"Stay where you are," the sweaty guy squealed. The whites of his eyes showing as his eyes were wide open with fear. He was ready to snap, crackle, and pop.

"Whoa, take it easy! I'm a cop," I quickly identified myself, trying to sound like I had everything in control.

The man blinked once, then twice before lowering his weapon. He walked around the counter, still holding his shotgun with twitching hands. I didn't lower my hands till he nudged me aside and locked the door. I noticed the bandages on his right arm, the blood soaking through. I didn't have to wander who gave him those wounds.

"Sorry about that, officer. I thought you were one of those zombies, or another crazy trying to raid my shop," he said in a softer, saner tone. I still kept my muscles clenched, ready to spring into action if the guy lost it.

"What the hell is going on here," I spat out. My nerves were raw from what I experienced so far.

"I don't know! People started getting sick after what happened up in the Spencer mansion," he started to explain before I interrupted him.

"Spencer mansion? Where's that located," I questioned, hoping to learn something that would unlock this mystery.

The man looked at me like I was the crazy one. "What do you mean? You're a cop, you should know!"

I shook my head, instantly kicking myself mentally at forgetting to state my new status to the force. "I just got placed here. This is my first day."

The owner grunted. He didn't look too happy to hear that. But he continued on with his account.

"Well, for awhile now, weird things have been happening. Strange murders scattered around the mansion area, further up the Arklay mountains. The cops didn't go into details, only that the murders might not be that after all. More like animal attacks... But when the Varnadoe family was slaughtered in their own home, even we the public knew there was more to the story. Sadly, it took some strange things happening at that fancy Spencer mansion for the cheif of police to finally decide to investigate the situation, and its relation to the deaths of some good town folk. So the Bravo team was sent to check it out. They're a tactical rescue force and are only sent on the most dangerous of missions. Besides, word was that Umbrella might have had something to do with some of the accidents that happened up at there. With a big name like that, Bravo had to be sent."

Umbrella's name had caught my interest. It was strange to me how such a large corporation would be set up in a mansion that was up in those mountains, on the outskirts of this small city. But I didn't dwell on it too much since my avid story teller told me the grim news of the infamous Bravo team.

"The Bravo team never made it. Their helicopter crashed. So the Raccoon City Police department sent in their newer special forces, the S.T.A.R.S. team. Captain Albert Wesker was the head and founder of the bunch. In fact, he hand picked each Tom, Dick, and Harry for the STARS tactical team. They were supposedly the best and brightest in each of their field, or whatever."

I then listened as he told me about the mansion being bombed by terrorists. I didn't believe the terrorists part, and from the skeptism from Kento, neither did he. But as it turned out, not all STARS members died or disappeared. There were some survivors; Barry, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, the chopper pilot, and Chris Redfield. Chris's name among the small list of survivors gave me hope. Maybe he was still alive.

But then my hope drained as Mr. Kento mentioned the mystery surrounding the last of STARS members disappearance.

"I personally think they ran, knew what was coming. Young Redfield kept going on about zombies and Umbrella creating some super virus. None of us believed him. Barry tried to keep the kid quiet, but that Redfield couldn't keep his yap shut. Next thing we knew, the whole lot of them disappeared. Now, a week later, I wish we listened to the kid."

I walked over to the counter, reeling from the information. I couldn't believe that the police, Chris's brothers in arms, didn't believe him. And Umbrella, that so recognizable company with its giant status in everything new, good, and pharmaceutical; their name that was tagged on to the rumors was too suspicious to be ignored. I wandered if it was true. Could Umbrella, that big corporation, have something to do with this horror?

"How much ammo you have left for that shotgun and my pistol," I asked quietly as I started rummaging through the counter. The wall was bare where rifles, different handguns, and the shotguns used to be. And from the look of the counter, there wasn't much left of ammo.

"Just what's in my gun is all I have left of the shotgun ammo. As for that handgun you got, I figure about two clips worth. Why," he asked curiously. He stepped in front of the glass window. I frowned. Standing there was like hanging a neon sign out that said, 'Human Buffet Here!'

"I need to know so I can figure how much of a chance we got to get to the Police station. Um, you might want to move away from there," I said nervously.

But the greasy guy wouldn't listen, or didn't hear me. He seemed too stunned from what I just had told him.

"Are you crazy, cop? Those streets are loaded with zombies! It took just about all my ammo to keep this place from being over run by that dead mob," the shop keep said loudly, raising his voice another octave. Not a smart thing to do when those things were walking around. I began to fear for the man's safety, not to mention mine.

"Sir, please step away from that window," I repeated calmly. The idiot continued as if I didn't say a word.

"Just what you planning, boy? To waltz up to the station and ask nicely if the zombies wouldn't mind not chewing on your brains," he continued. I started to get steamed.

"Sir, keep it down! Are you trying to get us killed," I hissed, keeping my voice down. The man's face turned beet red.

"No! You are the one who's trying to get us killed! Or... ha! I know what your plan is. You want to feed me to those things so you can have my shot gun! Don't deny it! Now," the crazed man raised his shotgun and pointed it at my head. The situation became worse with each passing second. "Get out of my shop! And leave that ammo, I'll be needing it to survive this nightmare!"

I shook my head at this man's stupidity. But what choice did I have? I walked toward the side door, intending to leave him to his misery. And then, a loud crash behind me stopped me in my tracks. Four zombies had burst through the glass, falling on the shop keeper. He fired off one shot as the ghouls tore into him.

The man screamed loudly till it stopped with a sickening gurgle. You're trained in the academy to be prepared for seeing people die, and taking lives. But this... seeing... hearing as a man is eaten alive is something nobody can be prepared for. I stupidly let out a shout of rage, firing at the scene. My bullets sliced through them like butter, but doing nothing that would help me or the now dead man. In my anger, I didn't stop to think that I couldn't save him, and that the best thing to do was to save my ammo.

Two zombies looked up at me as my gun clicked, now empty. Their clouded eyes stared at me with nothing in them, a total blankness. Slowly they rose, blood slowly dripping from their gaping cracked lips. Some common sense came back to me, thankfully. Well, partly common sense. My new objective was to get my hands on that shotgun... Yeah, I know. Crazy and stupid. But well worth it.

I took out my last magazine clip and quickly reloaded the gun. My fingers shook as the zombies raised there hands and stumbled quickly toward me. With the gun loaded, I raised it and fired off two rounds. Both fell, one head exploding. The other two zombies seemed too busy ripping the dead shop keeper flesh apart, devouring each morsel like a starving man. I willed the vomit that started to bubble up to go back down.

Quickly stepping up to the to the feasting monsters, I raised my gun and put a bullet in their brains. Oh, there was no denying that I was dealing with dead people. I was willing to except that. For if I didn't, I wouldn't be here now, telling my story to you.

I tried to not look at the man's body as I took the weapon from his dead fingers. I wished he listened to me. Hell, I wish a lot of things, but that... That's just one of them that gets to me still. I felt responsible for him, even though he was the one who refused to listen to reason.

Taking the bloody shotgun, I quickly grabbed the box of bullets that would hopefully have two clips worth of ammo as the shopkeeper had claimed, and the empty magazine lying on the counter. Without looking back, I left through the side door.

I now found myself in a narrow alley. The sound of the wind blowing made a eerie howl. The moans of the dead kept in a strange harmony. Gives me nightmares, even to this day.

It was dark, though the security lights from the buildings let me see all that was ahead. I checked the shotgun for how much shells I had left. Four. Just perfect. Guess my luck called for a in between of the good kind, and the bad.

But I'm not complaining. Having a shotgun was more than I hoped for. It was what got me going instead of standing there like a idiot.

A van was up ahead. Some boxes were seen, the back doors were wide open. I quickened my pace. As I passed the chicken wire fence, a zombie groaned. I jumped, aiming at the sound. Three zombies were in what looked like a small, basket ball court. Graffiti covered the brick walls, along with blood.

Noticing that the door was closed, I relaxed my stance. The closest zombie, a teenager with long black hair, walked forward. He moaned as he dragged his feet. When reaching the fence, he didn't stop. Instead, he just kept walking into it.

"Well, at least you're idiots. Gives me the advantage," I said aloud. A groan was his response.

Taking note of the door at the back of the court, I continued on toward the van. Some candy bars were in one of the boxes, along with another box of 9mm bullets. The more ammo I had, the more my optimism soared. Plus, any food that didn't need to be cooked was good.

All pleasurable thoughts of sustenance was bumped back by the fear from the sound of the fence door being forced open. I turned around to see my dead, basket ball fan walking toward me. Guess his buddy decided to join him for their meal, that was of course me. Happily, I proved to them that I was nobodies food.

It was easy taking them down. I used my handgun, keeping the shotgun hung over my shoulder. It would be better for close range situations. Plus, I didn't know exactly how many zombies I would encounter before reaching my goal. It would come in handy clearing a path through a horde or two.

Taking care of those two, I confidently walked through the opened door. The third zombie had his back turned to me. I watched him for a moment, allowing a stray thought to sweep in. I wondered if they had any memory of their previous lives. Were they just lost souls doomed to wander the earth? Wow... I was really naive before all of this crap!

No, these things were not people. Their souls were long gone, just leaving a rotting shell that craved sustenance. Us.

I walked over to the zombie, taking my shotgun and whamming him in the head. He fell to his knees with a moan. I kinda lost it as I bashed his brains in. My brief insane moment passed, leaving only mush for what was once a head. Wiping the gore from the shotgun with the hem of his dirty shirt, I went on through the back door.

Now I found myself in a small alley. A staircase was before me. I ran up the case and followed it as it wrapped around a building, then back down. A dumpster blocked my way. I carefully climbed up, feeling the pain in my shoulder from my earlier hindrance. I bit back my moan, ignoring the throb that started to pulse from my shoulder. It was a reminder of taking it easy on that limb. But in the scenario of zombie in apocalyptic proportions, I had to ignore it and push through the pain and pray that my shoulder wouldn't give out in a tight situation.

I saw two more zombies that were hanging around; a woman and a guy. I easily killed them, using my combat knife this time. Strange how far a human being can go while blocking out what you're actually doing.

Two more zombies were in that narrow alley. But they weren't really paying me any attention as I zig zagged my way through again. And then I opened yet another door, and entered into the next leg of my journey. And it didn't look pretty or any easier to survive.

Dead bodies poluted the street, as well as some small fires. The place looked like a war zone. Trash, debris, and useless damaged cars littered the street.

As I walked, I notice a small pack of zombies feasting on yet another helpless and dead victim. I kept quiet, choosing not to intrude as I walked toward a wrecked bus. Since the street was blocked by yet more cars and building debris, I figured I could go through the city bus to get on the other side.

The zombies noticed me. But I didn't stay to say hi. I quickly got in the bus and closed the door. Then I turned around... and gagged. Dead bodies were everywhere, producing yet another scene that replays itself in my nightmares. The stench was awful! The smell burned itself into my memory. You know what it's like, the smell of rotting flesh and blood.

I noticed a small petite woman on the floor, crawling toward me. Opening my mouth to speak, I paused when I realised she was yet another zombie. Her two bloody stumps that was once legs left a wet, bloody trail. Another zombie at the back of the bus took notice of me, and decided to join the party.

As the woman reached my boot, I delivered a head shot. I then waited till the other zombie was within three feet of me, then delivered a kick. It fell backwards with a loud thud. I quickly jumped passed him and ran out of that bus, clutching my stomach.

Opening the door with my fingers, I jumped forward and got out of there with less finesse than when I went in. I stopped and vomited, not able to hold it in any longer.

When done, I turned around and continued on. A fire truck laid near by, ironically on fire. Some more zombies were in the street, but the road was wide and not so badly littered with debris or obstacles. So my would be killers posed no threat as I easily ran past them.

A sign that I've been nearly dying to see hung over a gate. 'RCPD.' I felt energetic as I quickly opened the metal gate and entered.

Lamps illuminate a grassy lawn, well trimmed and cared for. The Large building there was what I aimed for as well as Claire; the RCPD station. Two zombies were there among the stone path to my destination. Noticing some stairs leading down, I decided to take them instead. No zombies were there, thankfully.

When going up the stairs and reaching the other side, I realized that I made it. I was finally at the station. Alive! With a sigh of relief, I ran up the steps and grabbed the handles of the double wooden doors. I prayed silently that Claire had made it safely as I had. Then, I entered the station. And like I hoped, I saw no dead people... At all. And I'm not just talking about the walking dead.

The main entrance hall was huge! And spooky. Really spooky. I quickly put the blame of that feeling of creepiness on my recent contact with dead people that wanted to feast on my brains.

I noticed two things when stepping forward. One, Claire was nowhere in sight. And two, a large dry fountain of a woman holding some kind of vase was parked right there in the lobby. Which is weird, considering that this was a police station and not a art gallery. In any case, the art work didn't really impress me. But I did notice that a round indention was on a plate below the woman statue. It was strange to see that. Deciding not to dwell on that, I went on with my exploration.

A computer system was set up behind the receptionists desk, along with a typewriter and a few personal items. I logged on the computer, but was quickly halted. It turned out that it was the main security computer, and that someone had locked almost all of the doors in this entrance hall. Only one remained open due to it not being technically controlled by the computer. I needed some security key card to unlock the rest of the doors.

I began to rummage again amongst the desks. Nothing was of use in them, except for a box of handgun bullets and a Grenade Launcher that laid on the desk. And no, I didn't question why a highly dangerous weapon such as that Grenade launcher was there in the open. Upon checking it, I found that it had six rounds in it. Another weapon that would come in handy.

Placing the strap attatched to it over my other shoulder, I walked over to the door. I opened it, hoping to find signs of life. My heart sunk when seeing the state of the room. The place was a mess. Papers covered the floor, a phone was off the hook, though it had no dial tone, telling me that I would get no phone service here.

A groan caught my attention. I held up my gun and walked slowly toward the left side of a long table in the middle of the room. Boxes and paper covered it's surface, along with high stacks of files. The mess made it hard to see what was around the area.

I stopped upon reaching a police officer sitting beside the table. His breathing was ragged, and he was bleeding pretty badly, but he was still alive!

I ran forward, kneeling beside the cop. He looked up, looking surprised to see me.

"Wh-... What are... I didn't know there was any... survivors left in this city," he croaked.

"I just got into town," I replied, noticing his sweaty paleness that abnormally touched his dark skin.

His eyes were glassy, but alert. He took in my appearance, then tried to smile.

"You're... the new guy. Leon, right?" he asked as he clenched his teeth in pain. I covered his hand that covered the severely bleeding wound.

"That's right. Listen, don't speak. Tell me where the medical supplies are and I'll-"

"Sorry about your reception, kid. We... Your buddy, Sam, he got us together to throw you a welcoming party. Looks like we failed ya," he interrupted me. I shook my head, trying to keep him quiet to save his strength.

"Listen, it's not safe here," he warned me as he gasped in pain.

"It's not safe outside either. There's got to be a way out of here," I argued.

"No, at least, aah! God it hurts!... We tried to make this place the last stand against those.. those things! We rounded up as much civilians as we could, before the horde could reach the station. For awhile, we... we kept it safe by boarding up the windows and blocking the underground parking lot. But in the end... it... it was our ruin."

I kept silent as the dying man told me what I didn't want to hear. "It was horrible! Johnson, Smith, and Taylor died first, their lineof defense the first to be broken. Then our second blockade was infiltrated, then the third and so on. All the people we rescued were killed, becoming those zombies... Soon, it was just me, your friend, and the chief."

"But something happened. The chief, he's been acting strange lately. Some of the guys before said he had gone off his rocker, and was the cause of our barricades to fail. Like he wanted us to die! I didn't want to believe it, but when one of those weird, skinless monsters found our last stand of defense, I began to suspect him. Only the chief knew the code to that door. No way those things are smart enough to figure the codes... Your friend Sam, he died saving my life. Sorry, rookie."

I was trembling as the grief tried to take hold. But that wasn't the time to grieve, so I quickly pushed the emotions aside. It wasn't easy.

"So you see, there's no place to run. I'm the only one left, well, until I met you. Did you happen to meet any other survivors," he asked, though I could tell he had no hope for such a thing.

"Just a girl. But we got separated. She was heading here as far as I know," I answered grimly.

"No offense, but the likelihood of her being alive is zero," he groaned as another wave of pain wracked his body.

"I hope you're wrong," I commented before adding, "Let's get you out of here. It's not-"

"No, it's too late for me. Hell, it's too late for anyone in this city now. If we had only listened to Chris about Umbrella... Here, take this security card. It will unlock all the doors in the main hall. Now go. Maybe you can leave by the sewers. That may be your only option," the officer said while putting the blue security card in my hand.

"But-" I tried to tell him that I couldn't leave him behind. That I could save him, but he and I both knew that it was too late for him.

"Go! Now," he demanded while pointing a gun at me. I stood up, looking down at the stubborn dying man.

"I promise that I will come back for you, if you like it or not," I promised, still too stubborn to admit defeat. The man chuckled, shaking his head.

"If you cherish your life, don't," was all he said. I turned around, ready to go. As I passed the stacks of non important papers, I noticed a memo for me. Quickly grabbing it, I exited the room. The sound of the door locking behind me caused me to pause.

Sighing, I walked over to the desk and used the card. Sounds of the doors unlocking was not as comforting as it should have been. From what I've been told, this station was one dangerous play ground. I had no idea around the place or what it would hold for me. I hoped that a map of the station was somewhere around.

Before deciding which door to take after useing the card on the security computer, I decided to delay a bit and read the memo. Reading it was like reading something about a future that would never happen. It was a welcoming memo, telling me how they were proud to have a graduate from the academy who passed with flying colors joining the force. There was a few jokes, one I could tell from Sam's stale pile he always held in reserves for me.

I looked up, asking why something like this had to happen. Why me, why this town, and who will pay for the death of so many lives? It wasn't the first time I asked these questions, nor the last. I just knew one thing, I had to survive this! And I had to find Claire, along with any other survivor that might be alive. And that is the end of the beginning of the longest night of my life. Now comes the start of the nightmare that never seems to end...

**A/N: **_I had planned on making this a longer chapter, but it's getting late and I am sooooooo tired! So, you just have to wait two chapters from now on Leon's next step in action! Ha-haaaaa!_


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